Page 21 of Breakaway Bet

She asks more questions about the vibe I want to set and who my ideal customer is.

Since I made this entire idea up last week and gave it zero consideration afterward, I really don’t have answers.

The further down this road we go, the more I’m starting to feel like shit. I’m wasting her time here…unless I actually do launch a tequila brand.

I wasn’t planning on it, but maybe it’s not the worst idea.

She finishes the list of questions, and we’ve been in here nearly an hour exchanging glances and learning more about each other. In short, she learns I have no clue what I want to do with tequila aside from drink it, and I learn that she’s smart and capable.

“I’m really your first client?” I ask as I lean back in my chair again.

She nods. “I graduated from Northwestern in May with a degree in fashion merchandising, which I learned by my final semester is something that I actually hate.” I chuckle at that, and she continues. “My brother offered me a job in San Diego with his real estate development firm, and my sister offered me a job here at Ever-Brand in Vegas. Long story short, I picked Vegas.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Her cheeks turn a little pink, but that doesn’t stop her reply. “Why?”

“Come on, Ivy. You don’t feel that undercurrent between us? I don’t know the first thing about you. I met you for three seconds a couple weeks ago and maybe ten minutes last week. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.”

She clears her throat, the pink in her cheeks deepening to a red hue. I think she’s going to fall under my spell like every other woman does, but instead, she says, “There’s no denying it, Cash. But my brother literally dragged me out of the club when he thought you were hitting on me. And my sister agreed with him. I hate being the little sister who everyone thinks they need to protect, but I also need to question your intentions. You don’t seem to know a damn thing about tequila. Why are you really here?”

“I wanted to see you again,” I admit.

“Are you really launching a tequila brand?”

“Will it mean we get to spend more time together?” I’m not sure where the question comes from, but it blurts right out of my mouth. Hey, at least it wasn’t a complete denial.

“I’d be your strategist.”

I lean forward on the table again, and my eyes zero in on hers. My voice is raspy and low when I say, “Then tell me where to sign.”

She presses her lips together to hide her smile. “You’re trouble.”

“There’s no denying that. Come out with me on Thursday.”

“Come out with you?” she repeats. “If you sign, you’re my client. I can’t go out with a client. Especially not my first and only client.” The word first feels like it holds an innuendo in it, and I’m not sure why.

“I haven’t signed anything yet. Wine and dine me. Convince me to be your client.”

She laughs, and it’s a sweet little tinkling sound I feel like I’ll never get enough of. “Maybe you should wine and dine me in order to convince me to take you on.”

“Deal.” I reach my hand across the table, and shock filters through me when she reaches over to shake on it.

Her skin is cool as my hand folds over hers, and the skin-on-skin contact is enough to stir my already hard cock.

Fucking fuck. I don’t think a simple handshake has ever had this sort of effect on me, barring last week when she walked into the room a little late and I popped an immediate boner.

She was a little sweaty from running in late, and seeing her like that made me imagine her naked and sweaty from a workout session beneath me. I pictured that an infinite number of times over the last week, mostly while palming my own cock.

This is a bad idea. All of it. I’m well aware of that.

But knowing it’s a bad idea isn’t going to stop me from doing it anyway.

CHAPTER 9: Ivy Bradley

Yes, Mother

I can’t help but hug myself a little in the conference room after he leaves.